


What She's Built For

by LaughingStones



Category: Motorcity
Genre: F/F, I feel like I need to tag this Not A Transformers AU, Shapeshifting, Shapeshifting Cars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 11:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14914724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingStones/pseuds/LaughingStones
Summary: Everyone knows if you put enough time and attention into a car, it can acquire a self and decide to take on a human shape. Chuck was not expecting it to happen with his half-built car.He also wasn't expecting to end up trapped into racing against the Duke. At least Blonde Thunder is enjoying herself.





	What She's Built For

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Splickedylit's beautifully drawn car girls posts, which can be found [here](http://livelivefastfree.tumblr.com/tagged/AltU%3A-These-Cars-Are-Gay), with the first one [here](http://livelivefastfree.tumblr.com/post/157890230401/splickedylit-allegro-designs-good-idea-i). She thought of it as an AU where the cars are the main characters and the Burners are their cars, but I said, What if the cars just - can take human shape if they want? How would that affect car-driver relationships?  
> Then I said Oh shit, what would _Chuck's_ relationship with Blonde Thunder be like?! And then this ficlet happened.

Chuck isn't expecting it, the first time Blonde Thunder takes human shape. He knew it could happen, of course; you can never tell when a vehicle will get enough effort and intention and _care_ put into it to acquire a heart of its own. But a lot of cars never do. And not all cars that do bother to take on a second form, one natural to relate to the people who build and drive them.

Then there's the fact that Blonde Thunder is still missing an important part, one Chuck carefully checked around for _before_ building her engine so it needs that part to work. If the one piece he still needs _unfortunately_ can't be had at any price, the car won't start, and no one can get on his case for not driving a car that doesn't work yet. It's a flawless plan.

At least, it is until he's doing a little work on her one day and just as he stands up to go find the air pump, the tire he was about to plump up is gone. In the middle of where the car was there's a teenage girl, pale and blonde and huddled in on herself.

Chuck makes a humiliating squeaky noise and stumbles backwards in shock. The girl bites one chapped lip and hunches a little more.

“...Sorry,” she offers, voice quiet and husky.

Chuck gasps in a breath. “No! I mean, uh, it's fine! It's cool, I just wasn't, um, I didn't expect you! I mean, I didn't expect that you'd, that you could--or that you'd want to--”

“I wanted to say hi,” she says.

Chuck swallows. “Hi,” he says, dumbly.

She smiles a little, cautiously. “Hi. Um. I like the safety features, they're very comfy.”

“Oh,” Chuck says. “Good.”

Neither of them says anything for a moment. Chuck isn't good at making conversation in the first place, especially with new people, especially with _girl-shaped_ new people, and he kicks himself for being a stupid awkward nerd.

“Thank you for building me,” she says.

Chuck's heart plummets into his stomach. Hell, he never thought about this. She doesn't _know_ , she thinks he's just not finished yet. He never thought of the car’s potential perspective on being built in a way that could never be finished.

“No problem,” he croaks.

She shifts her weight, tucks her curls out of her face behind one ear. Her cheeks are smudged with dirt, her long hair is tangled, her clothes look none too clean, and she's standing like she's uncertain on her feet. That last he can fix by getting her tires pumped up, but the rest… There's no point in getting her human form cleaned up unless he's going to do the same for her car shape, and… he's not. That would be a promise of commitment that's more of a lie than he can excuse.

“I feel a little funny, though,” she says. “I'm still missing a part, right?”

He nods, throat dry.

She nods back. “Any idea when you might get it?”

Chuck gives a panicked giggle. “Um, the problem is, it's a really rare part. I've already checked everywhere I could think of that could possibly have it, every resource we have, and come up empty.”

“Oh,” she says, frowning.

“I'm really sorry,” he says helplessly.

She blinks at him, frown uncertain, and looks down, worrying at her lip as one hand fastens on the other elbow in front of her. “Can… can you rebuild my engine, maybe, so it doesn't need that part?”

Chuck opens his mouth, sighs, closes it again. “Your engine is constructed _around_ that part,” he says. “I'd have to pretty much rebuild you from scratch, and you'd be a completely different car.” It's all true. He designed her engine that way, and now he feels incredibly guilty about it, but if he rebuilt her she wouldn't be _her_ anymore.

He never imagined that a car he built would consider whatever energy he put into it enough to be worth coming alive like this. Never thought he'd be inconveniencing someone _real_.

“Oh,” she says again. “Then… that's not gonna work. _I'm_ not going to work. Ever?”

“Yeah,” he says in a very small voice, and bites his lip not to apologise again. _I'm sorry_ 's not gonna fix this.

She nods, looking lost. Quietly devastated. She's too skinny for her frame, and looks so small, hunched in on herself like that.

“On the upside,” he finds himself saying, “if I do ever get my hands on that part, your engine will be incredibly efficient! And you must have noticed your boosters, you'll be able to outdistance Mutt no problem!”

“Who's Mutt?” she asks.

“Oh, she's Mike's car.”

Blonde Thunder nods, smiles a little. “That sounds nice,” she says. “I think I'd like racing.”

“Ahahaha, yeah, figures,” Chuck says weakly.

*

She stays car-shaped most of the time. On rare occasions when he comes out to work on her when nobody else is around, she waits until he's done and then goes human to shyly thank him. Sometimes they try to chat for a little while, and she gives him a wistful look that he can read all too well, but she only asks once or twice if there's been any progress on the search. Her reticence doesn't keep him from feeling guilty about it, but what is he supposed to do?

Then comes the day the others find out about Chuck's car, and Mike gets the clever idea to find him that part as a present, and everything changes.

*

Chuck is not happy about having a working car, he's not happy about the race he's been trapped into, and he's really, really not happy about learning to drive, much less drive _fast_ through an _obstacle course_. Blonde Thunder, on the other hand, is ecstatic.

(It's weird because he can tell even when she's in car form. Her engine sounds… excited, somehow, eager.)

Mike's doing his best to be helpful, teaching Chuck how to drive, but the truth is he has no idea what Chuck's dealing with and no clue how to help. He's never understood about Chuck's anxiety, and it means even when he just shrugs it off instead of getting impatient or mad, he doesn't stop pushing.

He's not trying to be cruel, the opposite, but it hurts anyway.

During a break, Mike wanders off to do handsprings or something, and Chuck climbs out of the car to sit down next to one wheel and hide his face in his knees. He can't do this. He's going to lose this race, and disappoint Mike, and the Duke will win Mutt, and even though Mutt will just give him the cold shoulder, it's still gross to think about him sleazing on her, and Mike will hate Chuck for it, it's all going to be Chuck's fault--

“Hey,” Thunder says quietly from behind him, and he jumps and shrieks and then swears under his breath, clutching at his pounding heart.

“Sorry,” she says.

He throws a hand in the air, giggling hysterically. “Don't worry about it, it's my fault! Everything is my fault, I gave Mike the excuse to get into this race in the first place!”

She edges closer behind him and he finally glances around to see her twisting her hands together awkwardly. “Can I sit with you?” she asks, in that low, husky voice.

“Sure? I guess?” he says, and she sits down on the asphalt beside him.

She looks a lot better with that last part in place, with everything tuned up and a pretty new paint job. In human form it all translates to a flush in her cheeks and a roundness to her body where before she looked kind of malnourished. She's all curves now, long blonde curls spilling over her shoulders, clean and cute and Chuck's not into cars that way, but she seems really nice, too.

She's going to hate him when she realizes he never meant her to work in the first place.

“You don't like this,” she states, and another giggle comes out of him.

“What, training for a race I have no chance of winning? It's fine! No problem! I'm definitely going to die, but no big deal!”

“ _Is_ it just the race you don't like?” she asks. “Or is it just driving in general?”

Chuck's head snaps up to stare at her, panicked. That's not a question any driver wants their car asking them. “What?! No! Driving is--fine, obviously, I don't--I mean, just because I don't know _how_ to drive doesn't mean I don't _want_ to--”

“Because the thing is,” she says, cutting him off without even raising her voice, “you already knew I was never going to turn on without that part _before_ I spoke to you. And if you'd really wanted a car, as soon as you found that out you would've rebuilt my engine so it'd work with something else. That's the only thing that makes sense.”

“No, I--I just hadn't gotten around to it yet!” Chuck says desperately. “It's a lot of work, you know, I just--”

“Please don't lie to me,” she says, and her voice is still quiet, but the look she gives him is sharp and frustrated. Chuck shrinks down where he sits, shoulders rising around his ears.

Thunder sighs, slumping a little, and Chuck was already feeling awful enough today without all this coming out too.

“The thing I can't figure out,” she says, “is why did you even build me in the first place?”

Chuck puts his face in his hands. “Because I'm an idiot,” he mumbles.

“That's not an answer,” she says, irritated.

Chuck groans softly, rubs his face and drops his hands to stare at the cracked asphalt between his feet. “I'm not… much of a Burner,” he says painfully. “I'm not… brave, or strong, or anything like the others. I'm not a good rebel, I don't like getting shot at or going fast or--anything. And I'm the only one who doesn't have my own car. I thought, if I did, maybe I'd… fit in better, maybe it'd make me a real Burner.” He blows out a breath. “I said it was stupid,” he mutters.

Thunder is frowning. “But a car that doesn't turn on doesn't really count, does it? How would that help?”

Chuck waves his hands, or possibly flails them. “It was a compromise! I don't like going fast, and I knew I wouldn't like it any better if I was in control, so… I dunno, I just thought if they saw I was _working_ on getting a car like a real Burner, maybe the guys would think I was less pathetic. Or maybe I'd _feel_ less pathetic,” he sighs.

Thunder doesn't say anything for a while. “I don't think Mike thinks you're pathetic,” she says eventually, picking at a fingernail.

Chuck sighs again. “Mike doesn't really pay attention,” he mutters. “He makes assumptions and goes with them. We've been friends forever, that's why he likes me. He's got a picture of me in his head that's of someone who's actually cool and worthwhile, and he probably hasn't bothered to look past it and check since we were like twelve.”

She considers that for another minute. “Well, I don't think you're pathetic either,” she says, with an odd combination of defiance and uncertainty.

His head jerks around to stare at her. “You--but I--I totally screwed you over! You should _hate_ me!”

Thunder looks away. “I don't _hate_ you,” she mutters. “I'm not… happy about it, but. And anyway, even if I'm… annoyed at you… it's not because you're _pathetic_.” She waves a hand around them. “You wouldn't be here, doing this, if you were pathetic.”

“What, you mean screaming constantly, trying to learn something everyone else already knows how to do? And _failing?_ ” Chuck adds bitterly.

“No,” Thunder says, scowling at him. “I mean trying to do something you really don't want to do, to help save Mutt.”

Chuck stares at her, caught completely off-guard. “The--you don't think the not wanting to do it part is pathetic?”

Thunder shrugs, not looking at him. “You wouldn't be screaming if you didn't think it was dangerous. It probably is dangerous. There's nothing pathetic about being scared of dangerous things.” She pauses before saying quietly, “I like it, though.”

Chuck sighs. “I know, I can tell. You were built for speed, it's probably natural that you like it.”

“I do,” she says. “I really, really do.”

“...What's it feel like?” he asks, and she lights up.

“Like…” she raises her hands, fingers rippling, curling around an invisible shape. “Like I'm… burning, I'm just-- _going_ , I'm so fast and maneuverable and--it's _so good!_ It's good, Chuck,” she says, and her smile is so brilliant that he can't help smiling back, crooked and awkward.

“Well,” he says. “Cool. At least one of us is enjoying it.” Her smile shrinks a little at the reminder and he kicks himself. “I mean--I'm glad! You're having fun, that's good!”

She relaxes again. “Thank you for driving me,” she says shyly, and puts a cautious hand on his shoulder. “Even though you don't like it. Um. I think you'll be a good driver, if you want to be.”

Startled warmth and guilt well up together, and Chuck gulps. He never expected her to be _nice_ after finding out he built her broken on purpose, and it doesn't feel like he deserves it.

“You deserve someone better,” he says unhappily. “Someone normal, who _likes_ driving. Someone like Mike, or Dutch--”

“I like _you_ ,” she says, that unexpected sharpness emerging again. “ _You're_ my driver, not those others. Besides,” she says, spoiling it a little, “they already _have_ cars. What would either of them do with two?”

Chuck bites his lip as a mental image worthy of the Duke waltzes into his head, Mike between lean brown Mutt and curvy pale Thunder, learning just what he _could_ do with two cars. Or even just watching the two of them. On the few occasions when they're both human, Chuck's caught the interested little glances Thunder’s given Mutt, and the way Mutt stares when Thunder’s not looking. He's pretty sure they're into each other, even if they haven't had a chance to do more than exchange a few words. They'd look good together, too, and with Mike in the mix--

He coughs, face flushing hot, and says too high, “Right! Yes, obviously!”

Thunder gives him a puzzled look, but then Mike comes bouncing back over, clapping his hands.

“All right, buddy, you ready to try this again?”

Chuck groans faintly. Thunder pats him tentatively on the shoulder and when he glances sideways, she's smiling a little at him.

“We can do it,” she says, and Chuck smiles shakily back and stands up.

“Yeah,” he says. “Okay. Let's, let's try it.”

*

He wins the race.

It's mostly thanks to Mike, of course, he got Chuck most of the way through the course, but in the end it's Chuck who keeps going, who looks at the massive pile of rubble the Duke dropped in their way and instead of braking, tries Mike’s crazy jump trick and _makes_ it, who passes the finish line just ahead of the Duke, even if Thunder lands in a skidding tumble.

Chuck starts shaking right afterwards, of course, he hates adrenaline for a reason and the letdown this time is brutal, but they _won_. He won. Mike will keep Mutt and no one's going to be mad at Chuck and he hasn't done anything unforgivable, Thunder might be a little banged up but it's the equivalent of bruises and scrapes and Dutch will put her right again in a heartbeat--it’s over. It's okay, he won, he somehow did it.

Mike congratulates him eagerly, hugging him and clapping him on the back and generally bouncing around in delight. It's nice to be able to trust again that he's squarely on Chuck's side, completely finished with the implacable push of training. That moment at the end of the race where Mike told him to slam on the brakes rather than crash--that helped a lot, hearing the urgency in his best friend's voice, knowing that despite _some_ evidence, Mike does actually care for Chuck more than for his car. (If only just. Which is fine, because Mutt's pretty cool.)

Chuck can't drive home. Mike doesn't make a fuss, but Chuck feels like such a loser to insist that they tow Thunder home because he just can't force himself back in the driver's seat right now. The race was a _lot_ , and he's just--he needs a while to recover.

As soon as they hit the garage and untether her from the tow cable, she goes human, and Chuck expects her to be angry, reproachful that he couldn't do better than to land her on her roof like that, that he didn't drive her home. Instead she _tackles_ him, beaming, and hugs the breath out of him.

“We _won!_ ” she shrieks in his ear. “That was _so cool_ , we did so _good_ , you did great, Chuck! I told you you'd be a great driver!”

“Uh!” he says, tentatively putting his hands on her back. “But, I mean, you got hurt?”

“Pfff, it's not like I _wrecked_ or something,” she says dismissively, pulling back after a final squeeze that makes him squeak. “I'm fine! We went so _fast!_ You _jumped_ me, I did a _flip_ , that was _so cool!_ ” She's glowing, gesturing excitedly, cheeks flushed and eyes bright and dilated, still flying high on adrenaline. She doesn't seem to even have noticed the dust on her face and the scrape along one cheekbone, or the bruise on her arm, which helps Chuck feel a little better.

He smiles, cautious and hopeful. “I can't believe we pulled the flip off, I thought we'd crash for sure.”

“But we _didn't!_ ” she exults, bouncing on her toes. “Because you're a genius!”

He can't help but laugh a little, messing with his bangs. “I'm pretty sure it was luck,” he points out.

“Whatever! We _won!_ ”

Mike steps up and claps him on the shoulder, grinning. “You totally did, dude, stop trying to talk it down.”

“Mikey, I'm just _saying_ ,” Chuck says, and stops, because Mutt has come over too, tall and lean with dyed streaks in her short hair, and she's standing in front of Thunder looking _shy_.

“...Hey,” she says, rubbing the shaved back of her head. “So. Thanks for helping save me. That was. Really cool.”

“Oh!” says Thunder, smiling at her, still bright-eyed and buzzing. “No problem! It was _awesome!_ I mean, not the bet, but the race was so much _fun!_ ”

“Yeah, you--you go really fast,” Mutt says, and Chuck bites his lip to keep from snorting. It's not like Mutt is usually a poet or anything, but he'd swear this is the least articulate he's ever heard her. Mike looks like he's catching on, glancing between them.

“Thank you!” Thunder says cheerfully, apparently oblivious.

“Yeah,” Mutt says, fiddling with the spiked collar around her neck. Her olive cheeks are slowly flushing, and she ducks her head. “Um. Yeah. Anyway I just wanted to say thanks,” she gets out all in one breath, and turns to stride hastily away.

Thunder cocks her head and she goes still briefly as her eyes narrow thoughtfully on Mutt's back. Then she smiles.

“Hey!” she calls as Mutt reaches the usual parking space, and Mutt instantly spins around, head coming up.

Thunder shifts her weight and somehow becomes at least fifty percent curvier, smiling sweetly at Mutt as all that restless excitement transmutes into something hot and deliberate and confident. “Traditionally, isn't there, like, a reward for rescuing a pretty girl?”

Chuck stifles a choking noise and Mike rocks back on his heels, blinking. Mutt looks… kind of dazed. Poleaxed.

“Oh,” she says, and swallows hard. “Uh, yeah!” She almost trips over her own feet hurrying back over, and Chuck crosses his arms and puts a hand over his mouth just to make sure he doesn't make any stupid noises and mess this up.

“Yeah, no, yeah, there totally is!” Mutt says fervently, reaching Thunder, and hesitates, hands rubbing distractedly against her pants.

Thunder closes her eyes and tilts her face up, puckering just a little, and Mutt only pauses a second before swooping down to kiss her gently on the lips. It's cute and brief, but Mutt is flushed darker anyway when she pulls back.

Thunder opens her eyes and gives Mutt that thoughtful look again, and Mutt's shy smile falters. Then Thunder grabs her and pulls her into a kiss that looks a lot more--a lot _more_ , anyway. A minute later Mutt makes a tiny whimpering noise and Chuck abruptly realizes there are probably other places he should be.

Mike clears his throat. “Hey Chuckles, celebratory movie night?”

“You're on,” Chuck says, and turns hastily away, striding toward the diner with Mike on his heels.

“Oh, Mike?” Thunder calls from behind them.

When Chuck turns, she has two fingers hooked through Mutt's collar and Mutt looks like she's already checked out, staring red-cheeked and dazed down at Thunder like their drivers don't even exist.

“Yeah?” Mike says, sounding startled.

“I hope you weren't planning on going anywhere for a day or so,” Thunder says sweetly. “This is _my_ ride now.” Turning, she heads away, Mutt eagerly in tow half a step behind with Thunder’s fingers still in her collar.

The storage room door closes behind them with a very final click.

“Oh my god,” Chuck says faintly.

“Oh…kay,” Mike says.

“I can't believe my car is… Wow, she is _so_ much more--” commanding, dominant _no_ he’s not saying that “--so much cooler than I am,” Chuck says.

“She's definitely better at flirting,” Mike allows.

Chuck groans. “Yeah, well, she's also smart enough to go after people who obviously _like_ her!”

Mike looks at him and sighs. “Yeah,” he says, hooking an arm around Chuck's shoulders. “Yeah, she is. Come on, buddy, let's go.”


End file.
